


Two Sides of the Same Coin (Din Djarin x FemOC!Reader)

by AzWritingNonsense



Category: Star Wars, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din Djarin needs company, F/M, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22346026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzWritingNonsense/pseuds/AzWritingNonsense
Summary: The Mandalorian, now on the run from the Guild and ex-Imperial warlords, acquires the assistance of a legendary warrior, a hooded figure fighting against the remnants of the Empire. As events of the show begin to play out, Mando begins to uncover more about the secrets she has worked so hard to bury.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 43





	1. Off the Grid

Through the thick visor of his helmet, Mando shot one glance back to the small quiet village, eyes searching for the tiny green body amongst the crowd of joyful children. The child stood before the group of children who all gawked at him in amazement, no one had ever seen such a creature let alone something so… delightful. He would never dare to admit it out loud but the child’s small cooes had his heart wrenching each and every time. The Mandalorian could not help but hope that after this raiders problem was handled that him and the boy could find peace here, at least for awhile. Turning away from the village surrounded by spiked barricades, Mando focused on following Cara’s foot strides. The sun would set soon, enfolding Sorgan in a blanket of dark skies and bright stars. When they would return to the small Krill farm the raiders would be hot on their tail, but before they could provoke the ruthless thieves, Cara insisted on making a stop first. 

The two were silent as they trudged through the forest, eyes locked straight ahead in search of something. The Mandalorian was unsure what they were looking for, Cara choosing to be extremely vague as to what this imperative detour was for. The only clue he had was Cara’s drifting eyes, the way she would glance down at her comlink and then to the swirling orange of the sky that seeped in through the tree coverage. A small smirk worked its way onto the woman’s face as her comlink beeped with a new message, the trees brustling as a shadow of a ship flew over head. Mando’s lips parted underneath the mask, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the sight. Who was arriving? Before he could voice his puzzlement, Cara looked back over her shoulder. “Have you heard of the Reaper?” Mando scoffed at her question, the voice modulator deepening the sound. He was mildly offended by her uncertainty, everyone in the Outer Rim had heard of the Reaper… 

The hooded figure, who since the fall of the Empire had been materializing on different systems across the galaxy, aiding the people. No one was positive as to why they had been deemed “The Reaper”, some whispered stories spoke of how they reaped havoc and death onto the remaining ex-Imperials, while others spoke of how wherever they went prosperity followed, life blossoming once again like a ripe harvest. The story of the Reaper had spread across the outer systems like wildfire, igniting hope in the downtrodden and dread into the scattered Imps. Some saw the figure as an angel sent from the Maker, a guardian who brought rebirth to previously controlled planets, while others found them to be just a story told to fuel the New Republic. Mando did not fall into either category, but he had seen enough horrors to know there were no such things as angels. Remarkably though, during his hunts he had never stumbled upon the hooded guardian, not yet at least. 

He nodded curtly, “Yes, why do you ask?” Cara only offered him a small smirk, nodding her head for him to continue following. Mando sighed, slinking after her unsure as to where this was going, even more unsure if he liked where it was going. “There’s only two of us and a bunch of barely trained farmers, I figured we could use some extra muscle.” Cara explained, both coming to a halt in a clearing where a beat up light freighter had landed. Instinctively Mando’s hand fell to rest on top of his blaster that was holstered to his hip, curious as to who the help was that Cara had called in. She approached the left side of the belly of the ship, the Mandalorian cautiously stepping forward to stand beside the former shocktrooper. 

“Who are they?” His voice was rough, even to him, as his eyes stayed locked on the closed ramp. Cara eyes drifted over catching sight of the hand hovering above his blaster, a snicker escaping her sly smile. “Relax, we can trust them.” Although her voice and demeanor showcased no sign as to why he should not believe her, skepticism still rolled off of the beskar steel in crashing waves. Mando tilted his head over at her, “That doesn’t answer my question.” With a loud sigh and the roll of her eyes, Cara crossed her arms turning to face him. “I don’t know much, we met in Rebellion.” An eyebrow rose beneath the helmet, another shocktrooper? “After Endor, instead of sticking around to enforce peace she left, went to enforce her own.” Mando nodded once absorbing the vague information. The Reaper was a former Rebel, he should have figured. “That’s all you got?” 

“Yeah… well, she’s got an older brother. Both were refugees from the Clone Wars before they joined the Rebellion.” A refugee from the Clone Wars, he swallowed thickly recalling all the other planets the droids had laid waste to. Mando hummed in acknowledgement, turning back to face the freighter. He supposed that was enough, he knew even less of Cara and trusted her to help. And if this woman really was the Reaper, the guardian angel, than they would be in good hands. 

The ramp of the ship hissed to life and lowered down. His hand still hovered above his blaster though, visor examining the soft smile Cara wore. “I got to say Dune, this doesn’t sound like early retirement to me.” He heard the taunting voice call before the ramp had completely lowered and Cara laughed stepping closer to the edge. Mando first saw mud caked boots, then a black belt with a blaster holstered on each hip, black armor secured around a torso, and then finally a black hood obscuring the face of the Reaper. Her head tilted in his direction, but all he could see was the shadow of a face, no clear outline of any distinct features. For all he knew she was not even looking at him, but as he inhaled slowly, her body seemed to stiffen. Her head remained tilted in his direction, the rest of her still, and Mando could feel her eyes observing him. Fingerless gloves drifted down to graze across the handle of her blaster, exposing the first real piece of her skin to him. 

“Hanging out with Mandalorians now?” The woman’s voice was softer than he expected as she addressed Cara, her hidden face never straying from his. The former shocktrooper eyed the two, both in a silent stand-off, hands ready to whip out their blasters in a matter of seconds. A snort of amusement sounded from Cara, “I knew you two would get along.” The Reaper finally released Mando from her stare, wandering over to Cara’s side. The hood creeped back a few inches revealing a large smile as the two women clasped hands. “How are you? Still getting yourself into trouble?” A chuckle escaped the hood, her hand tightening around Cara’s, “Please, I thrive in trouble.” Mando studied the interaction from the security of his helmet, perplexed by the bond on display before him. The story of the Reaper had always seemed so distant, like the whispers of a dream, it never occurred to him that she existed, let alone had a past. The whistle of the wind as it flowed through the surrounding trees, brought the Mandalorian out of his thoughts. He looked to the sky, the evening dusk beginning to fade. They had to move and now. 

Mando cleared his throat, the vibrations emitting from his throat rattled his helmet slightly. The two women broke apart from their reunion and pivoted to look at him. He could sense the tension emanating from the Reaper and in return he only rolled his shoulders, a silent challenge being proposed between the two. If she wanted to come at him, she could try all she wanted to. “Hey,” A hand grasped the faded white fabric enclosed around the woman’s arm, “He’s a friend.” The hood glanced back over to Cara and let out a loud defeated sigh. Yanking her arm free from Cara, the hood silently trudged over to Mando. He watched her cautiously as her dominant hand shot out, empty. “Wren.” He could see the faintest shadow of her lips moving as she uttered her name. The Reaper had a name, a name other than the mantle she adopted, unlike him. He still had a name, but it was another thing hidden, no longer spoken. It was a part of the creed, he was no longer that scared boy, he was a Mandalorian. 

Wren watched through the cover of her hood as the helmet nodded once in acceptance, before silently shaking her hand. The worn leather was rough against her bare fingertips, but the detail was lost in the overall overpowering sight of the quiet Mandalorian standing rigid before her. She had never met one before during her travels, but she had heard stories of them since her youth. Stories of the great warriors who waged wars against old orders during the Old Republic. In more recent times she knew of the Siege of Mandalore and how the people had been purged and forced into hiding. It made Wren shudder from the familiarity. She could not stop the thought that arose in the back of her mind, just how similar the two were, a fact no one else beside her would ever know. Despite the heroic stories, the helmet was still unnerving, bringing back memories she desperately tried to suppress. Although Wren was aware that if she attempted to bury everything, the more likely it would be to resurface, but she could not fight it. Old habits die hard. 

They released each other’s hands, but their heads stayed locked straight ahead, neither one truly sure if the other was staring as intently behind their respective masks. They were. “Got yourself a real talker here, don’t you Dune?” Wren joked, maneuvering to the side to see both of the fighters. “Yeah you could say that.” Cara shrugged moving closer and she had to bite back a smirk. “This is the one you trained a whole village of farmers to take on raiders with? Interesting to say the least.” Wren quipped back and Cara punched her padded shoulder lightly, eyes lifting to the darkening sky. It was almost time. Wren read the serious shift in her friend, hidden eyes flickering between Cara and the bounty hunter. “So what’s the plan?”

Night had swallowed Sorgan whole as the three warriors converged around the raiders camp. Cara and the Mandalorian made quick work of taking out the two raiders posted out by a fire on the side of the tent, while Wren quietly approached the side entrance. Inside were multiple crates filled with a glowing blue liquid, some still containing the small blue krill swimming around. She had never tried Spotchka but this certainly did not make her want to. She was disgusted by the fact that these raiders had been stealing this village’s only source of income to use and profit for themselves. In her own vengeance, her sole driving force, she often forgot there were other beings capable of causing pain in this galaxy, besides the Imps. Wren had dedicated her life to bringing the Empire crumbling down, and the last five years destroying any remnants of the Empire, something the New Republic seemed to turn a blind eye to. If it was not affecting the core systems, they seemed to not care. Their ignorance or blatant lack of consideration had covered Wren’s hands in blood. She felt no sense of guilt though, not for ex-Imperials, not after what they had done to the galaxy, to her people. 

Cara and the Mandalorian slipped into the tent, blasters drawn and raised in defense until they caught sight of just her. “Nice of you to join.” Wren whispered as the holstered their blasters. Cara only rolled her eyes as she peered over and into one of the crates filled with Spotchka while Mando stuck an explosive to one of the support beams. As the circle lit depicting that it was armed, he turned to the two women and nodded. The three stepped towards the exit when Wren felt her nerves prick beneath her attire, stopping her dead in her tracks. Her arm shot out, gently grazing across the cold beskar steel of the man’s armor. Through the veil of her hood, she looked to her side where the hunter had stopped, observing her. “What?” He hissed, voice low and modulated. It was the first time she had heard him speak and if they were not in the situation they currently were, she would have dwelled on the fact. Especially that his voice sounded… nice. 

Wren nodded her towards the exit where incoming voices were heard, her hand dropping from the bitter cold of the armor. He let out a barely audible sigh and stepped into a fighting stance, while Cara moved to hide by the side of the entrance. Two raiders strolled in unassumingly and before they comprehend the sight of a Mandalorian and a black hooded figure standing in front of them, Cara striked. She plowed her fist through the first raiders face, kicking the second one back. Mando sprung quick, taking the second one, while more raiders piled in hearing the commotion. Two of them charged towards Wren but she ducked, spinning around to kick one down, knocking his head against the edge of a crate. She jabbed her elbow into the remaining one, but he was bigger than the other one and he retaliated faster than she could process, earning her a fist to the face. Wren stumbled back tasting the familiar tang of blood on her tongue, no doubt coming from her lips, eyes narrowing at the raider before her. “Big mistake.” She mumbled, grabbing fists full of his tunic. She slammed her head against his, dismissing the pain radiating from her own head, before she launched herself over his body. As she landed behind him, her arm secured tightly around his neck, Wren yanked him to the ground. With a loud slam, he was knocked unconscious. 

A groan from her side did not allow her to dwell too long on the fact. The bounty hunter was being attacked by another raider, who had gotten him down to the ground. Instinct took over and before she could fully think it through, Wren rushed over and tackled the raider down to the ground. Her knuckles collided against his face a couple times before he fell unconscious beneath her. With a heavy exhale, Wren stood up and her eyes automatically fell to the helmet beside her. “I had that.” His deep voice was broken up by the deep breaths he was taking. She studied the dark visor that was turned in her direction, unsure if he was angry with her for helping. “I know.” She answered, because she did. Of course a Mandalorian could handle their own in a fight, but she was programmed to help, it was in her nature. Before Mando could answer, a red blast flew past them. 

They flung themselves down to the ground, hiding behind boxes of supplies, Cara doing the same across from them. She watched as his leather gloves plucked his blaster from his side and raised it to the guards. Another shot sped past them, damaging the wall behind them. Mando perked at that, helmet turning back to the wall, then to Cara, and lastly to her. Wren nodded and despite both of their faces obscured to the standard eye, they both understood. He fired a few blasts into the wall and looked over to Cara, “Come on, I’ll cover you!” The ex-shocktrooper nodded and booked across the small space, bursting through the damaged wall. Wren was hot on her trail and the Mandalorian on hers. The tent exploded behind them, erupting into thick hot flames as the trio tumbled out onto the ground.

Heaving in gulps of air, the tree looked back to the destroyed tent. “I hope the plan worked.” Wren chuckled lightly at Cara’s words, trying to push herself off the ground, but bright red lights caught her attention. Hidden in the bushes just beyond them, was an old AT-ST rising with its red eyes glaring down at them. “Go. Go!” Mando shouted, everyone staggering to their feet. Wren spun on her heel and ran, her feet barely touching the ground before lifting again. She was faster than the other two, but they pushed on trying to keep up. “You didn’t mention anything about an AT-ST!” She shouted over her shoulder, lungs burning as they raced back towards the village. How had these simple minded raiders even acquired Imperial equipment? Most who found old Imperial wreckage just scavenged them for parts to sell. “Surprise!” Cara called back over the sound of a blast. Wren could only smirk, despite the circumstances she had grown to feel more alive when in the middle of a shoot out. Especially when it came to helping those who could not fend for themselves. 

Running down a narrow strip of marshy land, Wren slid down behind the barricade surrounding the small village. As she pressed her back against the barricade and removed her blaster from her hip, she could feel multiple eyes trained on her, even a blaster or two. “Don’t worry, she’s here to help.” Mando’s voice carried across the barrier. She could hear a few relieved sighs and felt eyes lifting back to the forest edge. Her eyes found the Beskar steel once again, the moonlight casting a glow onto it. He was perched down beside her and Wren could only nod in gratitude. He did the same before hidden eyes focused back on the trees, where red eyes seeped through. 

Wren’s hand closed around her blaster, removing it from the holster, and readying it for the inevitable. This was not her first shoot out and it would certainly not be her last, but her blasters never sat comfortably in her hands. No she would prefer another weapon. The AT-ST came to a stop at the edge of the ponds, flashing its bright white light as it scanned the area instead. Everyone ducked and Wren could feel the apprehension in the air. These people were frightened, they were simply just farmers who focused on their harvests, but in desperate times they had chosen to rise and defend their land. It was very amarable of them, she noted. 

A small hut exploded behind her and Wren jumped back to the present, raising her blaster in defense. Emerging from the fog beneath the AT-ST were more raiders, charging towards the small civilization. She wasted no time aiming her blaster at any of the raiders she could find, taking down quite a few. Her focus was broken when out of the corner of her eye, Wren saw Cara rush down the narrow strip of land towards the raiders, carrying an Amban rifle, the Mandalorians. What was she doing? Her attention was broken away as a raider jumped over the barricade and crashed into her. 

Wren sat up with alarm, eyes falling onto the growling raider in front of her, hands frantically searching for her blaster. Her dominant hand clasped tightly around the first thing she found, staggering slightly as she stood up. She quickly looked over to find a piece of wood that had been sharpened into a spear. Wren almost laughed, now this she could use. Twirling the spear in her hand, she lunged forward before the raider could even attack, driving the sharpened edge straight through his sternum. He groaned in protest before falling slack to the dirt as she removed the spear. Behind her, more of the villagers had converged on the other side of the barrier attacking the other raiders. Wren smirked slightly, before sprinting out to join them, spear in hand.

As the AT-ST fell into the deepened pond, the remaining raiders, with no more cover, retreated back into the woods. The villagers all collectively let out a sigh of relief and began cheering for their victory. Wren sighed, smiling to herself in the security of her hood as she trudged down the narrow strip of land, attempting to regain her breath. “Need a hand?” She questioned, looking down at Cara and Mando who were partially submerged in a krill pond. Cara chuckled and extended a hand out which Wren grabbed. As she pulled her friend from the water, Mando made his own way out. “You good?” Cara asked observing her as the bounty hunter stood watching. “Oh yeah, but it seems like I missed out on the real fun.” She noted eyeing the water dripping from their clothes. They both groaned and Wren watched as the bounty hunter rung the water out of his cloak. Her head turned back to Cara and she let a small smile make its way into her exposed lips, “Well I think my job here is done.” “You’re leaving already?” Cara questioned eyebrows furrowing. Wren nodded slowly, she never liked to dwell too long on a planet after helping, there were always more places that needed help across the galaxy. She never wanted to become comfortable and settle, not yet at least. 

Cara shook her head, “No stay for the night, you can leave in the morning. No one needs help for the night.” Wren sighed, handing the ex-shocktrooper the spear she had been using, eyes discreetly drifting over the still Mandalorian. “I think it’s best if I do. They’ve got enough on their hands here, they don’t need to take in anyone else.” The spear was shoved back into her hands, “It’s one night.” 

“Please stay.” Another voice called. Wren and Cara’s heads turned to find one of the native woman observing them from the other end of the ponds. Her lips parted but she could not find the words to insist that she must go. “Please you helped us, and we’ve heard the stories of how you help others. Let us help you.” The woman smiled warmly and Wren groaned lowly to herself, before nodding in resignation. One night would not hurt. As she followed the woman towards the barn, Cara and the Mando silently following, Wren perked as a feeling overcame her. As she drew nearer to the village, the feeling intensified, causing her to release a low gulp. It was familiar and yet foreign, something she had not felt in a long time, not at this magnitude. Passing the celebrating and drained farmers, her eyes could not help but survey them all, confusion etched onto her hidden face. 

Warm sunlight and children’s laughter greeted Wren as her eyes fluttered open. Her eyes squinted up to the blue sky, thankful for the black veil shielding her eyes. “Good Morning.” A voice chortled from her side. Wren turned in the stiff chair to find Cara sitting in another chair on the opposite side of the barn, drinking a cup of Spotchka, the Mandalorian standing right above her. She hummed half heartedly in acknowledgement, sitting up in the chair, tired eyes falling to the group of smiling children playing just beyond the barn. She absorbed the sweet innocence of the children as they danced around and laughed, their carefree attitude infectious just from watching. A part of her wanted to miss that blissful ignorance but it had not been a part of her life for long, making it difficult to do so. She continued to watch the local children as she fully awoke, but something caught her eye. It was as if the children were circling around something, something small. Wren’s eyes fell onto the middle of the circle and nearly bugged beneath her hood. Before she could form a coherent thought, she rose from her seat and stumbled down the steps and towards the group of children. 

Mando stiffened as he watched Wren approach the group of children, fear rising in his chest. He did not think twice before following after her, unsure what her intentions were. After the events that took place last night he was unsure what to think of the Reaper. He knew she was an ally, she helped people not hurt them, but there was an odd cloud that hung around her. She was agile, all quick reflexes, faster than he’d seen anyone move before. He had seen a brief glimpse of it inside the raiders camp and then again as she fought off the raiders outside of the village. Her fighting style was unique unlike anything he’d seen, especially from a Rebel. Cara was all heavy blows and tackles, going from the obvious, while Wren was... evasive. She was light as a feather dancing around the battlefield, waiting for the opportune time to strike. He tried to approach Cara about the subject in the early hours of dawn, but the former Rebel only knew so much, “Everyone has their secrets, Mando.” 

The local children seemed to scatter at the incoming black hood, the sight more frightening than his helmet. All but one seemed to run away, in fact it seemed like the child with his big eyes wandered towards her. Wren stopped in her tracks and looked down at the small green creature before kneeling down. The child cooed softly, his head tilting as he inspected the black hood. Mando hovered over the two of them but they both seemed to ignore his presence, too enthralled in each other. The child’s small arms reached out for her and Wren carefully lifted him and brought him into her embrace. Mando fidgeted above them, confused by what was happening. Why was the boy so curious? A little green claw lifted to grasp the black fabric that hid her face and Wren’s hand rose to meet his, pushing back the hood. Mando sprung to life at that, his leather gloved hand enclosing around hers and the boy’s. “Stop, you don’t have to.” He was unsure why she wore the hood in the first place, but he imagined she did not want others to see her. It was better to be faceless when creating enemies with Imps or the Guild. 

Wren’s face did not deter from the child’s as she spoke. “It’s okay, I haven’t sworn a creed like you.” Her voice was soft and low, as if she was whispering something while in a trance. Against his better judgment, he released her hand and returned to silently observing this odd phenomenon. Slowly, Wren’s bare hand pulled back the black hood, letting it slide down and rest on her back. Mando swallowed thickly, helmet tilting to observe the face of the Reaper. Never had he stumbled upon a face that he could not see before, a face not hidden by a creed. He was not sure what to expect and he felt a bubble rise in his chest. Was this how others felt around him? 

Wren was young, her face smooth and bright, despite for the split bottom lip she adorned. Gentle eyes were brought out by white paint that had been carefully applied around her eyes, like a warrior. Her hair was pulled back into a braid, a tan strip of fabric woven into it. He was not sure what he had expected, but the sight below him was not it. He understood now why the Reaper had been deemed a guardian angel, but he had a feeling they had not seen her face when deciding that. 

The child hummed in contentment, pressing both of his tiny claws to her cheeks. Wren let a small giggle fall from her lips, eyes watering in the process. Still holding the child, her eyes drifted up to him and Mando clenched his jaw. He could see the tears that gathered in her eyes, threatening to spill over, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Is he yours?” Mando nodded stiffly, watching as the child ogled at her, a smile on his face. The child was always happy, especially since being brought around the children of Sorgan, but he had never witnessed this amount of joy on the tiny green face. Wren did not say anything but instead rose back to her feet, clutching the child close to her. Her expressive eyes fell back onto him and now that she was bare to the world, Mando discreetly had to remind himself that his helmet was still secured on. “When you leave here, I want to come with you.” Shock caused his mouth to fall open beneath the mask as he tried to process her sudden confession. He was puzzled by the sudden change. Last night she was desperate to leave and return to her “reaping”, but now she wanted to put it on hold? “Why?” The child made another soft sound and Wren’s eyes flickered down smiling at him. It was a sight to see, the two forming a strange bond so quickly. “I’m a good fighter I could be of use hiding from the Guild and I could help with him.” The bounty hunter contemplated her request. Her overnight change had to be because of the child and he was not exactly put off by it. She was indeed a good fighter, that could prove to be of good use as he tried to protect the child from the Guild and the ex-Imperials who wanted him. And watching the child clung to her so suddenly, the dread he had felt when thinking about leaving here with him only seemed to shift now to the dread of leaving here with him, without her. “Fine.” He sighed watching her smile widen. He was starting to wish she would put the hood back on. Wren shifted the child into her one arm, while the other one extended out to him. Arching an eyebrow, Mando accepted the handshake, silently pondering if he was going to regret this decision. 

  
  



	2. Binary Suns

The Mandalorian had tried to do the right thing: he went against the Guild and rescued the small green asset, he had taken the child somewhere safe where he had hoped they could lay low for a few months, but trouble seemed to follow. Because of his years of rigorous training and the years he had dedicated to the Guild, he could have foreseen the inevitable bounty hunter tracking the kid to Sorgan, but taking on a new strange passenger? No training or amount of labor could have helped him predict that one. 

It had been a few days since they had departed Sorgan, leaving Cara behind with “Until our paths cross” and “Not a scratch on my ship Dune!” It had been a few days and he still did not have a decent interpretation of the Reaper, Wren. Mando knew nothing about her, only the minor glimpses into her life that Cara had revealed and how oddly well the child and her connected. It was almost as if they spoke their own silent language. 

There were a few things he did uncover though. They were small details but provided an insight into her guarded life. Without the white paint smeared around her eyes, the dark circles hidden underneath were revealed to him. He had mistaken the purple and bluish patches of skin for bruises until he realized they were not healing. She did not sleep much… that much he had gathered. Late at night whether he was in the cockpit or the confines of his room, he could hear the faintest of movements, like the soft hum of a breeze. The Razor Crest was not quiet by any means, every step warranted creaking durasteel in response, yet barely any noise ever came from her. It was as if her feet never touched the floor…

Wren was impossibly agile, quick reflexes, reacting to things before his mind had even processed them. Reaching for things before they had even fallen, catching the kid before he could get them all into trouble by pressing whatever button he could reach. Mando had seen it on Sorgan with the way she took out the raiders, all quick and precise movements, flipping up and into the air, only to land before them and drive her spear straight through. It was unlike anything he had ever seen across the galaxy.

She constantly wore armor around her chest and abdomen. Whether it was sitting on the floor playing absentmindedly with the kid or sitting silently in the cockpit alongside him. It appeared as if she never took it off. Coming from the man who was covered in head to toe Beskar everyday, it seemed a little strange. An out of character trait for someone who was not devoted to any creed. He began to wonder what dangerous predicament the Reaper had experienced to make her so tense.

Wren was jumpy, jumpier than him. Any great fighter had their senses heightened, always ready for the unpredictable, but Wren was on a whole other plane of existence. Every little insignificant noise earned her gaze, earned her fingers grazing her blaster. Her reflexes making her ready to spring into action at any given second. Mando was positive that each and every time he entered the same area as her on this small ship that her breath hitched. She would be stiff for a moment until whatever irrational fear played out behind her eyes faded away. He tried not to take it personally, many beings feared him and it brought him a strange sense of joy sometimes, but strangely not with Wren. 

The Mandalorian knew the weight of trauma, of secrets, the Beskar was not the only thing that weighed him down. He knew what it did to someone and he knew she harbored many secrets, a past that left a burden on the young Reaper.

Regardless of his own intense curiosity that was building beneath the helmet, Wren never voiced any. She never pestered him about what was beneath the helmet, like so many did. In fact there were moments over the past couple of days that he felt that she looked straight through the helmet. It was one night in particular when she was just informing him that rations were running low, the child seemingly always hungry, that the visor that tinted his vision served as the only reminder that she could not see him. Her eyes always found his with ease despite the barrier. They were small gestures but he deeply appreciated them, not that he would ever voice that. Mando needed to remind himself that she was simply here to help with the kid, but he could not help but enjoy the new company. Although she could talk a little less… 

Wren had retired to her small cot for the night, leaving Mando and the child alone in the cockpit. The two were silent, except for the occasional chatter from the small green creature behind him. The Mandalorian kept his eyes trained on the vast stars before him, thoughts wandering to the woman below. He had never been curious, it was something that diminished in him as a boy during his training, yet this former Rebel had awoken it in him. She was as much as a walking mystery as he was. 

A loud beeping derailed his train of thought, bring him back inside of the cockpit. His head looked around the control panel, searching for the indication of what was wrong, when he caught sight of the scanner. Behind the Razor Crest was another ship, its targets locked onto them. “Shi-” Mando could not even get a word out before a blast hit his ship, rattling the worn durasteel. “Hand over the child, Mando.” A demanding voice cut through the radio, almost drowning in the sound of other blaring alarms and the frightful whimpers of the kid. He quickly accelerated, dodging incoming blasts, although a shot hit one of the jets. The Razor Crest jolted forward at that, electricity crackling throughout the cockpit. With the chaos that was ensuing, Mando did not hear the footsteps climbing the ladder. 

“I leave you alone for five minutes,” Wren’s voice carried through the small cockpit as she entered. It had been longer than five minutes, he silently noted to himself. “And you somehow find trouble! Seriously you two!” Wren pointed down accusatively at the child, a smile breaking through her teasing tone. The child babbled something in response followed shortly by a giggle. Perhaps if they were not in a state of peril than Mando would have found humor in the comment, maybe even allow a corner of his lips to twitch. Instead he was stone cold, focused on putting an end to the hunter behind him. “Hold on.” 

Wren hovered behind him, hands tightly gripping the molding of the cockpit’s viewpoint as Mando spun the Razor Crest around, the ship taking a few more hits. “I can bring you in warm or cold.” The hunter’s voice came from the radio and the child whimpered quietly, no doubtedly petrified. Mando suddenly braked and Wren’s hands slipped from the ceiling and she stumbled forward, hands falling to clutch onto the Beskar pauldrons on his shoulders. He immediately stiffened, the cold from her hands seeping through his layers, the apology fumbling from her lips muted against the ringing in his ears. A shiver ran up his spine, but he was unsure if it was from her frigid hands or something else entirely. As his defense system locked onto the ship that was now before him, he banished his internal inquiry. 

“That’s my line.” The Mandalorian declared firing at the other ship, it exploding into nothing more than speckles of dust. Wren’s hands slipped from his shoulders as he moved to fiddle with multiple toggles and buttons, the Razor Crest whining in a state of distress. “Nice shot Mando, decent comeback.” A small noise escaped the helmet and she bit back a grin, turning to squat down before the baby. She could hear him mumbling about losing fuel as he tried to transfer energy elsewhere, the alarms only blaring in response, and the engine powering down. “Are we floating dead in the middle of space? Yes we are, yes we are!” Wren cooed to the child, softly stroking one of his long green ears, earning her a soft giggle in return. His big brown eyes held onto hers, his small teeth poking out through his smile. She had never seen a creature so easily enthused, especially by her. 

The cockpit abruptly was filled with red light, tinting everything in sight. A non-amused groan sounded from the chair to her side as Mando sat back down, continuously switching toggles. The engine sputtered back to life and the rusting gears of the pilot chair creaked. Wren tore her eyes away from the baby, finding the man had swiveled his chair over to peer at them, the helmet tilted down. Wren did not need to see his face to know the telling look of “Don’t underestimate me”. 

It had been a few days since Wren had joined the Mandalorian and the child on their desperate attempts to avoid the Guild. She did not know much about the man hidden behind the beskar and she had accepted that. She knew that the creed prevented him from showing his face, that the creed hid all remnants of whoever he was before. Wren could understand that, could relate in her own way, the hood she adorned hid more than just a face. But during their few days in space together, in the small confines of his ship, she had uncovered a few things without ever having to ask. 

Mando was quiet, never speaking more than necessary around her. He had been stiff at first, but she could feel him starting to loosen his resolve around her. She knew he hid behind a facade, but the child had started to break through that long before she even began accompanying them. The late nights where she could hear him talking to the child, who only offered incoherent answers, proved that. Waking up in the cockpit with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders proved that. Although that was something both of them never dared to address. He was not as heartless as he wanted others to believe. 

He was protective. Perhaps it was his line of work that had brought it out or something he too buried beneath the mantle of a Mandalorian, but he was protective, overly so. Late at night when she could not sleep, a common occurrence, she could hear him up in the cockpit refusing to sleep afraid for the unknown. He constantly checked on the child, more so than her, even reluctant to let her leave the room with him. Wren attempted not to take it personally, most of the beings he had encountered lately had been after the child, but she secretly hoped he did not think of her like so. She was here to help, not harm him.

She could feel a strange sense of comfort emitting from him, beneath all of the stress. Wren was unsure as to why but he seemed to tense around her despite the deep, dare she say, relaxed breaths that escaped from the helmet. Whenever she looked to the visor, searching for eyes she would never see, he seemed to stutter in his movements, hands twitching at his sides. He was never just one emotion, that much she could tell. 

Against her control, the sight of the helmet still brought forth unwelcomed thoughts. She would have to take a moment to calm her heart and he seemed to know to wait to speak when the flashes resurfaced. It was not Mando’s fault, he did not mean to stoke the inner fear she had from her youth, but it was just a foolish thing she could not control. With each passing day, Wren hoped the sour taste in her mouth would disappear when her eyes first land on the Mandalorian. 

Mando was a good person, she knew it. He tried to obscure it behind curt sentences, bloodied hands, and polished armor, but it was there. He too had the weight of trauma secured around his soul, tighter than the beskar, she knew that personally. Despite everything, she was beginning to enjoy his company. She enjoyed the silent looks, the hours spent playing with the child, the teasing remarks that only earned her a soft noise in acknowledgement. Spending so many years alone, having not one but two living and breathing beings around was an unexpected but welcomed change. And to think, she had almost fought him on Sorgan before a single word had been exchanged between them. 

The crackling static of the radio pulled the hunter away, the visor returning to the vast expanse of space. “This is Mos Eisley Tower, we are tracking you. Head for bay three-five, over.” Mando confirmed that he was heading for the hangar, but Wren groaned drowning it out. She stood back to her full height and eyed the sand covered planet rapidly consuming their view of space. “Mos Eisley?” Of all the places to land… “You’ve been here before?” The deep modified voice questioned. Wren leaned over him, eyes narrowed and observing. She could feel the Mandalorian tense beneath her, the frigid chill of the beskar radiating through her clothes. She paid no mind to it as memories of the pale architecture of the former wretched hive of scum and villainy surfaced in her mind. It had been different then, just as it would be now. Back before embarking on a trip with a Mandalorian bounty hunter and a small green creature, back before the whispered tales of a hood black figure spread across the galaxy. “A long time ago.” 

Climbing down from the cockpit, Wren watched as Mando laid the kid down in a small compartment. He had seemingly fallen asleep during their descent, the thrill of a chase leaving his little body drained. “Will he be okay in there?” She was hesitant to leave him, not doing so since she had joined his side. The two of them bonded quicker than anyone would deem normal and Wren did not have an answer, not a truthful one. She was scared to part from him, feeling the need to protect him. He was too important and yet too fragile. “He’ll be fine.” Mando assured closing the door. Sighing Wren moved towards the ramp, waiting for the man to finish loading up his weapons. Her blasters never left her side, a habit that she would never shake. The horrors that had been seared into her mind, that bled from her soul with every step had made sure of that. 

“No hood?” Mando suddenly spoke, moving to press the button that lowered the ramp. Wren just shook her head, no she would not be needing it. The Reaper would not be present today. They both were silent as the ramp lowered, hands automatically flying up to shield her eyes from the blinding suns. The dry, hot, suffocating air of Tatooine infiltrated her lungs and the immediate uncomfortable prickling sensation of unbearable heat made itself known underneath her dark tunic. She could not imagine how agonizingly hot Mando was beneath all his armor and dark clothing, his skin no doubtedly producing the sticky gleam of sweat under it all. 

A blaster went off pulling Wren back to the hangar. Her one blaster was cradled between her hands, finger on the trigger, faster than she could process. “Hey! Hey! You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” A woman’s nagging broke through the tension. Wren’s eyes fell over to Mando, finding his blaster pointed at a few pit droids. His face was turned towards her though and she could sense his eyes observing her and her blaster, as if he was taking a mental image. 

A woman emerged from a small office in the bay, her unruly curls taller than her. “Just keep them away from my ship.” Mando huffed out holstering his blaster, Wren following suit, only after assessing their surroundings. No trouble appeared to be near, especially from the tiny woman. “Yeah? You think that’s a good idea, do you? Let’s look at your ship.” The woman, a mechanic, chastised stepping closer to the ship with her datapad in hand. 

The quiet chatter of the city streamed into bay three-five, gaining Wren’s attention. She could not help the curiosity that came over. It had been years since she last stepped foot on this planet, the first planet she had ever come back to. She never stuck around long enough to see how change would progress. Looking back to an occupied Mando and Mechanic, she knew she would not be missed. Wren walked down the rest of the ramp, stepping down onto the hard sandy ground, the exit just ahead. Her next step has not even touched the ground before rough leather clamped around her wrist. The heat from the leather burned almost as hot as the suns of Tatooine. If it weren’t for the steel, Wren would assume that Mando would radiate pure heat, even in the coldest parts of space. Her hands were always cold, a striking difference between the man and her. She was certain Mando believed they were all differences, two things that could not coexist in the same atmosphere. But the similarities greatly outweighed that, two things that in fact orbited each other. Although he would never know that. 

“Where are you going?” Frustration had twisted its way into his speech from the credit hungry Mechanic and confusion for her interrupted departure. The stone cold legendary bounty hunter was nothing like she expected, something she had been piecing together since Sorgan. His instinctual protectiveness over the child had proven there was more to him than what had been spoken of. “Relax, I’ll be back.” She attempted to rip her hand free, but his grip only tightened. Her eyes flashed up to his, narrowing with a challenge, an eyebrow quirking up as well. She could take him with ease, make it to the blast door before he could even stand. “Just wait a minute.” A hint of humor edged its way into the modulator and Wren fought back a satisfied smirk. She was bound to break through that facade of his sometime. He turned back to the mechanic, never releasing her wrist, he was too smart to think she would stay. “I’ll get you your money. Just remember-” The curly haired woman cut him off, “Yeah, no droids, I heard you. You don’t have to say it twice.” Mando did not comment, instead he released Wren’s wrist. His now free hand gestured for her to lead the way and she wasted no time jetting towards the bay exit, the hunter close behind. 

The two stepped through the blast door, greeted by the quiet hangar alley. Wren half heartedly expected to see the sickening white duraplast armor patrolling around, but with a heavy exhale she reminded herself that it had been taken care of. “Is there a cantina or something around here?” Mando asked reminding her that he was still in fact next to her. She rolled her eyes at his question, was there a cantina in Mos Eisley? He must have never been here, especially during the Empire’s reign. “Yeah, it’s just a few streets over.” Wren answered, eyes scanning the area. Last time she was here it was bustling with smugglers, spice runners, and running fugitives. Now it was almost bare except for the occasional traveler and moisture farmer passing by. It was unlike Mos Eisley to be so… civilized. Pride attempted to rise in her, but she snuffed it out quickly. This was how it was supposed to be. 

“When were you on Tatooine?” The words surprised her, the Mandalorian verbally seeking out information about her. She was astonished to know he was inquisitive, let alone about her. “It was one of the first places the “Reaper” went to.” It was the first real city she traveled to, bearing no identity as she removed any traces of the horrid Empire. It was wear the Reaper was born, her alter ego. Wren did not associate herself with the stories that had spread across the galaxy. She was no guardian angel, no she was the person she had needed as a child. “That’s why you didn’t wear your hood.” Mando said more to himself than her. Wren nodded in agreement, “They didn’t need to think it was some second coming and it’s nice to just observe, to see this prosperity that is attached to the name.” She could recall the weeks she had spent here, covered in grime that consisted of blood, sweat, and coarse sand. She had barely slept while freeing each and every small town or village of stormtroopers. If she had not struck them down, the few she did not, were left for the Tusken Raiders. They turned to their right where a pathway was lined with weathered Stormtrooper helmets, all pierced with stakes. He turned to her wordlessly, the tilt of the helmet indicating the question he did not ask. Wren winked walking past him, “What? Didn’t know I was an artist?” 

The cantina was quiet, only a few local patrons sitting around the old bar, the occasional droid rolling by. Mando approached the bar leaning against the worn countertop, “Hey droid, I’m a hunter. I’m looking for some work.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Wren rested against the counter beside him, eyes patrolling the small cantina and droid before them. She was paranoid so was he, but she always seemed to be on the lookout. Him shooting at the pit droids had her ready to attack in a split second. Just another telling reason as to why he determined she was jumpy. “Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates from Tatooine.” The droid responded and Mando let out a sigh. “I could’ve told you that.” Wren mumbled. He slowly glared over at her, eyebrows raised in annoyance. Her eyes widened in dramatics before she pursed her lips and turned to face the opposite wall. Expressive, he mentally noted, another thing to add to his list. She was extremely expressive in her movements and facial expressions. A part of him was relieved she had not worn the hood since Sorgan, he found her reactions to be… enjoyable. 

“I’m not looking for Guild work.” The bartending droid was quick to retort, “I’m afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculation.” Mando wanted to blast the damn droid, being of absolute no use. How was he supposed to pay for repairs if he could not find a job? How would he buy rations for himself, the child, and now Wren? He thought back to the simpler times where it was just him all by his lonesome, but had those times really been simpler? He enjoyed having the child now and he liked Wren’s company, he had been alone for far too long.

“Think again, tin can!” A voice called. Mando twisted around to see a young man sitting in a booth with his legs propped up as if he was some high and mighty scoundrel. “If you’re looking for work, have a seat, my friend.” He added gesturing to the open seat across from him. The beskar helmet turned to face Wren, who already was focused on him. Wordlessly, Wren lifted her shoulders into a shrug and Mando sighed. What other option did they have? He sauntered over to the small booth, Wren staying at the bar. “Names Toro, Toro Calican.” The young man, Toro, boots dropped from the table as he placed down a bounty puck onto the table between them. “Picked up this Bounty Puck before I left the Mid Rim. Fennec Shand, an Assassin. Heard she's been on the run ever since the New Republic put all her employers in lockdown.” Mando narrowed his eyes at the boy, unsure how naive he could possibly be,“I know the name.” Toro pulled the tracking fob from his belt as he continued, “I followed this tracking fob here. Now the positional data suggests she's headed out beyond the Dune Sea. Should be an easy job.” Mando heard Wren snicker from the bar, her head dropping in laughter. Toro was a newbie, that was for sure. 

After Toro confessing that he was in fact, said newbie, he made the Mandalorian an offer he could not refuse. “You and your hot partner can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the Guild.” From his peripheral vision, Mando saw Wren stiffen at his words. Through the security of his helmet, he allowed his eyes to rake over his new supposed partner. The thought had not yet crossed his mind, Wren was now his partner, both protecting the child. 

Her hair was secured in a braid once again, the same taupe colored piece of fabric woven into it, along with grains of sand that had embellished her hair during the walk here. She wore a dark blue tunic over a white long sleeve, the black armor as always wrapped around her torso. Mando took in her black belt and two holstered blasters, her brown pants that were tucked into her black boots, and something silver that gleamed inside her one boot. He swore it better not be anything of his. 

His eyes found Toro’s to be regarding Wren as well, although it was in less of an observant way as Mando had just done or at least that’s what he tried to tell himself. Mando was not pleased to find that Toro was eyeing his partner and so visibly, no discreteness to it. He leaned in the beskar plate pressing tightly into his chest, “She can see you.” Toro’s eyes snapped back up to Wren’s face, who had not moved from her position at the bar. With her head staring straight ahead at the multitude of vials of different liquors one of her hands raised and gave the two men a short wave, indicating that she did in fact see them. 

Toro’s mouth fell open as he searched for what to say, some pathetic excuse, but only straggled spurts of air fell from his lips. Mando did not grant him anymore time to find his words, “Meet me at Hangar three-five in half an hour. Bring two speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob.” They both stood and headed for the door, Wren approaching them with a sly smirk on her face. Toro refused to meet her gaze instead holding Mando’s visor as his leather covered hand extended out for the tracking fob. Mando watched as Toro’s eyes widened as he glanced down at his hand and then back up to the helmet. Before anyone could react, Toro smashed the tracking fob into the stone wall. 

Wren let out a small noise and the Mandalorian bobbed his head in shock and annoyance. “Don’t worry, got it all memorized!” The young bounty hunter reassured tapping his temple. Mando mentally facepalmed himself, what had he gotten himself into? “Half an hour.” He repeated before nodding for the Reaper to follow him. 

The minute the two were out of the cantina, Wren grabbed his arm. “I don’t trust him Mando.” He looked down at her seeing the uncertainty embedded in her eyes, could feel it in the way her cold fingers clutched onto him. Even underneath the heat of the binary suns, her hands were still cold. He envisioned that even the heat of a thousand suns that they would still be cold, it was just another attribute that made up the mysterious Reaper, his new partner. The word still felt foreign in his mind, he could only imagine how bizarre it would feel tumbling from his lips. Mutely Mando nodded and her hand released him, leaving him to feel strange in its absence. He did not trust the kid either, but they needed the credits.

The two entered the hangar silently, the mechanic nowhere in sight. Surely she was gathering the parts she needed to patch up Mando’s sorely messed up ship. She would never say it, but the ship was older than them both and belonged in a ship graveyard somewhere on Jakku or Honoghr. Her ship the Weeping Sinner, a name her brother had bestowed on the old freighter, was newer than his. And yet, they had left that one behind on Sorgan in the hands of Cara. Her ship could have handled a shoot-out better than this. 

Wren followed the Mandalorian up the ramp still playing over what the wanna-be bounty hunter had said.  _ “Partner.”  _ She elected to ignore his words before that, but dwelled on the title he had given Mando and her. They were partners now, working together to protect the child, it was odd to think of. Their partnership was almost humorous considering the stories she knew… but it was the three of them now. A drastic change to the solidarity she had grown accustomed to since the war ended. 

Inside the Razor Crest, Mando moved to collect supplies for his trip with Toro and Wren headed towards the small compartment to check on the kid. She was amazed he was still sleeping… except as her eyes fell onto the empty compartment, she realized he was not. Mando’s eyes seemed to have noticed the same gut-wrenching sight at the same time because he quickly bolted over to investigate, confirming the child was not inside. His helmet whipped back to her widening eyes and they both took off running out of the ship. 

“Hey!” Mando shouted down at one of the pit droids, who in terror collapsed down into itself. Durasteel filled Wren’s stomach as she scoured her surroundings, searching for green ears and that oversized beige tunic. Where was he? Was he okay? Had someone taken him? The information Mando had told her when she first joined them, reiterated itself inside her head.  _ “Imps had him hooked up to some machine, the client didn’t seem to be concerned about whether he lived or not.”  _ If a hunter had found him there was no saying what could have happened to him, what was currently happening to him. The child was of grave importance, Mando had begun to put that together and Wren had known it the minute she had seen him playing with the children of Sorgan, those little green ears perked up in joy. She felt dizzy, enough of them had suffered, the child did not deserve any harm. 

“Where is he?” Mando demanded looking down at the quivering droid. Fear encompassing his voice even through the modulator. “Quiet!” The mechanic attempted to shout and keep her voice down at the same time. She emerged from her office, a small bundle secured in her arms. Wren was quick to raise her blaster targeting the Tatooine native. She craved another weapon, one that fit in the palms of her hands better. A weapon that was quicker, cleaner, more precise in the hands of someone like Wren, someone who was as lithe as her. She desired the weapon the Reaper beared when taking down any outpost still flying the Imperial flag, still under control. But this was not the place, not without a hood, not with a Mandalorian she barely knew. 

Muffled cries escaped the child as she walked closer, unaware of the blaster pointed at her and the tensed Mandalorian. “You woke it up! Do you have any idea how long it took me to get it to sleep?” The woman complained, eyes flickering between the two. She seemed unbothered by the two fighters standing before her as if she had stared down far more dangerous people. Living in Mos Eisley, it was possible. 

“Give him to me.” Mando demanded, pointing at the incoming child. Wren tightened her grip on her blaster, one foot stepping closer. “Not so fast!” The mechanic shifted to the side holding the child away from them. An animalistic sneer escaped Wren’s lips as she took another intimidating step forward. Both the woman and Mando turned to look at her appalled, stunned by her fearless approach. Wren was undeterred by their silence, only jerking her blaster up as a reminder to give them the child or else. Big brown eyes met hers and a soft murmur escaped the child, his claws reaching out for her. 

A hand was gently placed on top of her blaster, urging her to lower it. Wren swallowed slightly, not even looking at the man as she reluctantly holstered the weapon. Taking a deep breath, she tried to reign in the inner warrior that had escaped from its cage. “Please.” She whispered desperately, trembling hands reaching out. The woman seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure of the sudden change in her, but against her better judgement she handed over the child. 

A sigh of relief escaped Wren’s throat once she felt the soft fabric graze her exposed skin and without a second thought she pressed his little body into hers. Content little sounds fell from the baby’s mouth and a claw raised to rest against her cheek. Wren offered him a small smile, pleased to see he was in no danger and no harm had come to him. “Thank you.” Her voice was barely audible as she regarded the mechanic, who in shock just nodded. She could feel Mando’s eyes on her too but she kept her head down, basking in the joy of the child. 

“You got a job, didn’t you?” The woman asked. Mando did not answer as he moved to collect his belongings from back inside the ship. She continued on anyways, “I figured you were good for the money since you have extra mouths to feed.” Wren’s eyes drifted away from the child to glance up at the Mandalorian already staring back down at her.  _ Her partner…  _ Her brown eyes fell quickly, her cheeks flushing in the slightest. The awful sweltering Tatooine heat must have been getting to her. The child cooed up at her almost as if he was calling her lie. “It’s not like that…” She mumbled to him. She had been alone for so long, it was overwhelming to finally be near others again. Let alone have a partner. 

Mando walked down the ramp and headed for the exit, Wren and the child following close behind. Outside the hangar, Toro leaned against one of the speeder bikes, arms crossed, and a relaxed expression on his face. “Hey Mando, what do you think? Not too shabby, huh?” Mando was silent as he plopped his belongings down onto the one speeder bike. He moved to inspect the bike, clearly not impressed. “What'd you expect? This ain't Corellia.” Toro shrugged, looking over to Wren and the baby. She did not meet his gaze, instead watching Mando strap his pack to bike. Wren was uncertain about this hunt, Fennec Shand was a highly regarded mercenary with a big bounty over her head, there being only one other person as high as her. 

“Hey kid, why didn’t you pick something easier to get yourself into the Guild?” Wren prodded, jerking her chin towards him. Toro smirked slightly at her words, “Please as if any other bounty could get me in. The only other one worth such a high honor is the Reaper, but their just a myth.” Wren faked a laugh, eyes flashing over to a quiet Mando. “You think the Reaper is just a story?” Toro nodded tossing in an unnecessary wink, “No one just helps others for free.” She shrugged innocently, knowing that perhaps there were people like that out in the galaxy. Wren never allowed anyone to pay her for what she did, the most she would accept for her deeds was food and fuel. The work of the Reaper did not require payment, she found her reward in the relieved sighs, the gracious smiles, and the dissipation of fear and suffering. The Empire had oppressed too many and ridding the galaxy of such evil was enough reparation. 

Mando sauntered back up to her side, a simple glove reaching out to stroke one of the child’s silky ears. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. Keep an eye on the kid.” Wren agreed, eyes searching the visor for his. She knew she would never see them, but attempting to find them was enough. It was a game she played:  _ if he’s tilting his head than his eyes must be there _ or  _ he stiffened, I must have found them _ . Wren wanted to remind him to be safe, to watch his back, but he was a Mandalorian, a skilled fighter… He would be fine. 

Wren watched as the two speeder bikes took off in a cloud of sand, the child babbling up at her softly. She smiled looking down at his sweet little face, “It’s just you and me, kid.” Another babble floated up to her ears, his head attempting to turn back. “Don’t worry he’ll be back soon.” Bouncing him lightly in her arms, Wren turned to enter the hangar again. Before entering bay three-five, she cast one last glance out to the horizon, inwardly remind herself that everything would be fine. 

The day flew by quickly and the binary suns rose the morning, greeting the two of them with the same insufferable heat. Wren and the child made due on the Razor Crest, attempting to keep each other from the brink of boredom, while the mechanic worked around them. Peli, as she was called, was a nice lady Wren could give her that. She had fed them both, dramatically professing how she would only add it to Mando’s other charges, but Wren could tell she did not fully mean it. She could tell the lady enjoyed the change in company. Her and the child got along well too.

Although Wren was going stir crazy. She had not sat around for so long, not since she had been in the Rebellion, but even then there had been something to do. She preferred to keep herself busy, it left less time to remember, less time to feel alone. But now she could only lean against the cold durasteel and watch the child play with a small shiny sphere. It was entertaining enough, watching as the sphere reflect back a distorted image of herself. Wren pondered briefly if that was how she truly looked: altered, disguised, and nothing like her true self. She was always the Reaper or a Rebel or something that no longer existed, never just Wren. She was always a conscious blend of multiple things, never truly herself. Fear held her back, just as it had for all these years, since that horrific night. Although she supposed the chance for her to be just Wren died long ago with so many others. 

The mid-afternoon sun brought down an intense heat, everything practically radiating thick waves of the sweltering heat. Wren had stripped down to just her blue tunic as she tried to keep the kid cool inside the shade of the Razor Crest. His little green self seemed unbothered by the heat, but she was still worried. She could not wait to leave, the coldness of space calling to her. She had not grown up anywhere near the desert heat, the planets she had lived on were always cool. The closest to heat she had gotten was Yavin 4 during her early years in the Rebellion. 

The sound of the blast door opening had Wren jumping to her feet. An alleviated groan passed through her lips, “Finally they’re back!” She jumped down out of the cockpit, eager to leave, but the smile on her face soon died. Toro was walking up the ramp of the ship, blaster raised in defense, no shining beskar in sight. “Where’s Mando?” Wren questioned, slowly walking to the side, her hand reaching for her blaster. Mentally she cursed, during her changing she never clipped back on her belt. Now she was blasterless, but she was not weaponless. Concern tugged at her heart, concern for her Mandalorian partner. She hoped he was alright and not buried in a pauper’s grave somewhere in the desert. “Oh don’t worry, he’ll be joining us shortly. And until then, you’re going to do as I say because I don’t want to mess up that pretty little face of yours.” 

Wren quirked an eyebrow up at that, “Oh is that so?” Toro nodded as the two began to circle each other in a standoff. She wanted to laugh at his boldness and ill-placed confidence. This adolescent could not beat her, he had nothing to hold against her. 

As if on cue, a quiet whimper filled the tense ship, heads turning to find the child watching them from a step on the ladder leading up the cockpit. Wren gulped, of course he would follow… “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to this little guy would you?” Her eyes snapped back over to Toro who now pointed at the child. With a blaster pointed at her, she could handle it, but she could not risk the kid. 

“You backstabbing bantha!” Wren spit, the two of them now locked on opposite sides of the ship. She did not know why he had double-crossed Mando, but he had no less. And now he was threatening the kid, oh how badly she wanted to unleash the Reaper on him. “It’s just business, you know.” Toro grinned maliciously, eyes twinkling down at the child. “I wasn’t in the Guild, so no I don’t.” A thick eyebrow lifted at that, curiosity emitting from him. “Who are you then?” Wren rolled her eyes, ignoring his question. A part of her told her to wait for Mando, that she could not risk endangering the child, that she could not risk exposing herself. Her actions would no doubtedly out her, but to who? The child? He already knew who she was and he would be the only one walking out of here besides her. Peli was nowhere to be found, meaning while she bore no hood, no could identify her. 

Yes, she could stay here and play Toro’s little game and wait for Mando to arrive whenever or she could handle the situation herself. Just as she’s done all along. As she stared at the blaster pointed down at the baby, her decision was made. Wren smirked, her head tilting down threateningly, fingers twitching at her sides in anticipation.“I’m the Reaper.” 

Night devoured Mos Eisley as Mando slid off the dewback, eyeing the speeder bike resting outside of hangar three-five. His chest tightened with unfamiliar feelings, feelings that the child had awoken in. His jaw clenched as he pulled his blaster free from the holster, heading inside the bay. He did not know why Toro had killed Shand, but his gut told him it was not in defense. Slowly he stepped down the stairs, scanning for any threat. He swore if Toro had laid a hand on the kid or Wren… he swallowed thickly not fond of the potential sights he could see. His grip tightened around the blaster in determination, anger seeping in.

“Took you long enough, Mando.” a voice called and in defense his blaster raised to point at the dark shadows of the Razor Crest. What he saw made his heart skip a beat. Wren walked down the ramp, the child asleep in her arms. His eyes frantically raced over the two of them, finding no evident sign of harm. He could not fathom it, where was Toro? He was still tense, eyes searching the grounds of the bay, fully expecting the young bounty hunter to ambush him from the shadows. But his eyes found something else. Beside the ship, was something dark, a silhouette. Mando moved closer hesitantly, blaster still secured between his glove. 

On the ground was Toro, eyes closed and a strange blaster hole going straight through his chest. He was dead… which meant Wren had killed him. His eyes lifted back up the ramp where she peered down at him, the moonlight the only source of light. “A-Are you both okay?” Mando’s voice was stiff, the dread and anger he had felt still woven into it. She smiled lightly, “Yeah, nothing I couldn’t handle.” A deep sigh fled his lips and Mando rolled his shoulders trying to loosen some of the built up tension. Of course, the Reaper could handle herself, it was foolish of him to assume otherwise. 

“Peli, the mechanic, is scared out of her mind though.” Mando’s lips twitched a little beneath the helmet, “From him or you?” Wren laughed loudly, before clamping a hand around her mouth. Her eyes looked down checking to see if she had woken the kid, she had not. “Good question.” He walked around to the end of the ramp where Wren met him. Looking down at the sleeping child banished all of his previous fears, he was safe, so was she. Through the veil of his lashes he looked up to the former Rebel, who smiled down at the creature too. “I will say though,” Her eyes flickered up to the visor, finding his eyes with such ease, Mando swore she could see right through. “I did warn you about him.” He groaned taking a step back, trying to fight the smile that broke across his face. “Go back inside, I’m going to figure out the payment with the mechanic, and then we are leaving this place.” Her eyes widened in thankfulness as she nodded, turning to head back up the ramp. With her back to him, Mando carefully eyed her and let an amused hum slip out. Shaking his head, he left to find the mechanic.

Wren felt as the Razor Crest lifted from the bay, leaving Tatooine in the rear viewport. She was thankful to leave, the sweltering heat draining her and the minor scuffle she had with Toro. He had not put up much of a fight just as she expected, he seemed to shaken to function after her admission. The Reaper did after all strike fear into the hearts of the malevolent. 

Carefully she placed the child down into the small compartment and wrapped the small blanket around him. At the end of the day, she was glad he was safe. She would not have been able to function if he had gotten hurt, he meant to much. Before she had even crumbled to her knees before him in Sorgan, he had awoken something in her. Something she had not felt for decades, a sense of belonging. The Mandalorian only began to heighten that feeling too. 

Wren leaned against the durasteel wall, eyes never faltering from the sleeping child as she heard the cockpit door open. Heavy boots thudded down the ladder before Mando turned to face her, both of them inhaling greatly. “Hey.” She mumbled, eyes heavy with sleep. She was exhausted but she knew laid down on her small cot that she would not sleep anyways. Sleep never came to her easily despite how depleted her body was. Mando nodded once and approached them, the helmet tipping towards the peacefully resting child. Wren too went back to watching the child, the sole purpose they were on this journey, facing trouble at every corner. He was worth it.

A leather hand moved in the corner of her vision, reaching down for something. She was tired, but still fast. Her hand snatched hold of Mando’s wandering hand, eyes wide in confusion. “What are you doing?” His visor was looking down at the ground, “What’s in your boot?” Wren’s blood turned colder than Hoth, the color draining from her face. She did not have to look to know what he saw peeking out from the black boot. “Nothing of yours if that’s what you’re insinuating.” Her answer was rushed, tumbling out messily, but Mando sighed and nodded. Her hand slowly released his and they both moved back to watching the kid. The air was tense between them but Wren knew it was not because of her unwillingness to reveal a single item.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.” Mando breathed out. Her brown eyes moved over to fixate on the beskar, “It’s okay, I’m used to taking care of myself.” They were silent once again and the comfort of her stiff cot called her name. Wren spun to leave, but now the worn leather caught ahold of her hand. Their eyes found each other and she swore she could feel the ghost of Tatooine’s heat creep up the back of her neck. “I know you are and so am I, but we…” The man before her trailed off searching for the correct words. He did not talk much nor express his feelings, Wren knew that. “We don’t have to fight alone anymore.”

She knew he meant more by his words, that they now had each other’s backs, that they were no longer alone anymore. Guilt flooded Wren’s thoughts. She was hiding so much from him, more than any single person could bear. She wanted to tell him, but fear enclosed around her so thickly. If the truth came out, he would never look at her the same and she would lose the first sense of belonging she’s had in a long time. It did not matter anyway, lying was encoded in her and the truth was buried so deep, it felt lost and out of touch. 

Wren smiled weakly, her hand falling back to her side free, “Goodnight partner.” 


	3. A Bad Idea - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mando and the Reaper must resort to old contacts of Mando’s to acquire credits. But when working with a group of mercenaries, things can expectedly go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, its been far too long since I've updated! Sorry about that but please enjoy and stay safe :)

“This is a bad idea.” 

The words floated through the Razor Crest, residing between the two warriors. Despite the regulated air system onboard the beat up old ship, the air was thick with tension. A tension that had unfortunately been building for a while, since their departure from Mos Eisley.

Wren did not spare a glance in his direction as she finished securing her last piece of armor to her torso. She did not spare a glance when she heard the familiar sigh escape the beskar steel helmet or when she heard his blaster drop into the worn leather holster. She knew it was useless to keep bringing it up, but it **was** a bad idea. Her gut told her so… 

“We talked about this… ” Wren involuntarily rolled her eyes. Their discussion had consisted of the two of them engaging in a screaming match, one where the only result was them waking the child. It had not been her intention nor the Mandalorians, she was sure of that much, yet it happened anyways. 

Wren was used to being alone. She had not followed a chain of command since her Rebellion days and even then she had not followed very well or very willingly. She could take care of herself and had been fending for herself since her youth. Maker, she was still alive if that gave her any credit. Now being constantly around someone, someone who infuriatingly tried to make all the decisions, it was … a difficult adjustment. Their blissful stage seemed to have died after the whole incident on Tatooine, it was as if Mando had forgotten his very words to her when they left. 

_“We don’t have to fight alone anymore.”_

And now it just seemed that all they did was fight against one another, neither one being able to agree on anything. Especially that she could be of use in this upcoming mission, but no he wanted her to stay with the child, benched on the sidelines. It was infuriating, making Wren’s blood boil. She was annoyed with Mando’s constant orders, with his need to be in control, with the stupid sultry way his voice sounded through the modulator when they argued, with the way his body clad in that threateningly beautiful armor loomed over hers. Most of all, she hated the way her body responded to it all, it was… frustrating. 

“We don’t have any other options.” Mando continued, a deep sigh tumbling from his helmet. Wren shook away her drifting thoughts, internally trying to sum it all up to annoyance, exhaustion, and the small confines of the Razor Crest. 

To be honest with herself, all she wanted was to go a couple rounds with him. _In a fight,_ she added feeling the need to clarify even if it was only to herself. She wanted to feel the adrenaline coarse through her very being, electrifying her into the resilient warrior she was trained to be. Maybe she would fight her equally well trained opponent with a weapon or perhaps they would spice it up and she would use her bare hands. Yes, Wren smirked softly to herself, she could envision it now.

“The galaxy is big, I’m positive there is.” Without much thought, Wren’s eyes drifted up and over to the gleaming beskar. The helmet, his helmet, was already tilted down staring at her. Wren swallowed thickly, heat creeping up the back of her neck. Mutely, she cursed her multitude of dark layers as if they were to blame even in the depths of frigid space. 

Still their eyes remained locked together, despite the obvious barrier concealing his from the normal eye, but she knew where his eyes were. She could find where they resided with ease now, for Wren did not have the normal eye. No, she had the eyes of the Reaper… 

Wren did not like this, not one bit. After all the heated conversations of the late, she did not enjoy the silence, the brutal tense silence. She would rather dive head first into a sarlacc pit or fight off a Rathar than deal with the unease brewing between them. She had never experienced such discomfort before, but then again this was the longest she had been in the company of someone in a while, especially someone like the Mandalorian. 

He broke away first, leaving her to mentally digest the fact that there was no possibility of breaking Mando out of this delusion. This was going to happen and it would not go the way he thought and she would be left behind unable to help. She wanted to convince him, persuade him otherwise, but it would not be right. And as much as she did not want to admit it, someone did need to watch after the child. He was too important to be left alone in the hands of the unpredictable. 

Hands sliding upwards, Wren clutched the rough and well past exhausted fabric of her hood, moving it to conceal her features. What they were about to face was dangerous, filled with uncertainty and risks. She was not sure what they would be walking into and what measures would need to be taken if this went haywire, but the Reaper needed to be on standby. Who knew what actions she would be required to take… 

Cracked worn leather seized her hands, halting them in their attempt to conceal her face. A staggered gasp flew from Wren’s mouth, eyes shooting up to the man beside her. Why had she not noticed his movement? Her reflexes felt out of touch lately, probably from lack of use. Nonetheless, she was not used to physical contact, not the contact that was calm and gentler, the kind that would not get her killed. Although with the way her heart rate spiked, the brink of death could be closer than she thought. 

“Don’t.” 

The Mandalorian’s voice was stern and deeper than usual. Wren imagined it was the voice his targets heard just before he pulled the trigger. Yet, there was something unidentifiable woven into it, something that made her lips part in the slightest and the heat creep further up her neck threateningly close to her face. 

An eyebrow quirked up, “Why?” She could not help but question him. Why did he not want her to put the hood on? Did he not want her face hidden? It was a strange notion coming from a man whose face was always hidden. 

The Mandalorian let out a soft exhale, his grip on her hands loosening until the warmth of his touch left her completely. “I know you solely operated out of your own self interest,” His hand traveled down, a finger faintly caressing a lock of her hair. It was unfamiliar, such a delicate action coming from hands coated thickly by the sharp stench of blaster smoke. It made the hair on the back of Wren’s neck stand up despite the heat bursting beneath her skin. “But, there are many who believe the Reaper is just a soldier of the New Republic.” 

Wren scoffed loudly, “As if I would be a piece in their game of Dejarik.” The New Republic had grown too invested in their rebuilding of democracy that it seemed they had forgotten the scattered remains of the Empire still lurking in the shadows of the galaxy. How could one go forth in restoration if Imperials still plagued systems outside of the core worlds? Wren knew the answer and even more so she knew that their ignorance would come back to bite them exceptionally hard in the ass one day. 

Another huff emitted from the Mandalorian, “I know, but a group of mercenaries who act outside the laws of the New Republic…” 

“Wouldn’t want to take the chance of being around a supposed puppet of the Republic.” Wren finished for him, clenching her jaw tightly. She roughly rubbed the skin above her brow, irked to her very core. This day was proving to be more difficult than she had anticipated and it was already giving her a headache. She did not like the idea of being exposed around people she did not know, let alone mercenaries, but what other choice did she have? She could not endanger the child’s life or Mando’s…

Wren let the black hood fall to rest against her back, twisting to face the man hidden behind so much armor. “Look I know you don’t agree with me about all of this, but it’s the only option we have right now.” Mando defended, his head tilting down to look at her. Wren rolled her eyes and shook her head in dismay. Yes they were on the run from the Guild, but to assume that all their other options were burned did not make sense. 

Wren broke away from her sour thoughts when she felt the cold beskar steel press against her abdomen. Unknowingly, she had drifted closer to his imposing figure. Despite her own armor, the frigid chill of the beskar could be felt against her torso as if her bare skin was flushed against it. At the thought of her bare skin pressed against the Mandalorian, Wren gulped. Her eyes warily lifted to the dark visor, seeing it still tilted down looking at her. 

He was as motionless as she was, both frozen together as they stared silently. This was different compared to the harsh words exchanged over the course of the previous days. It was different compared to anything else Wren had felt previously. Her frustration seemed to boil over though, her body searing all over. She mentally pondered how the beskar had not begun to melt. Eyes still locked together, she swallowed thickly unsure of how to proceed at such a proximity. Did she continue her argument with him? Did she silently stay pressed against him in hopes of something … else?

A loud beeping coming from the cockpit seemed to decide for her. Wren jumped back, eyes wide in alarm. The startling noise had her pulling away from the Mandalorian, leaving her to feel hollow and flustered. Eyes not daring to meet Mando’s, she instead looked up to the concealed cockpit where the beeping continued. They were nearing their destination… 

“Fine.” Wren broke the silence, her voice lacking the vigor it possessed just moments ago. “Whatever you say, _Partner._ ” Her eyes held onto the floor of the Razor Crest as she stalked away overcome by a swirl of strange emotions. 

Too caught up in her own internal inferno Wren missed the way the leather gloves, the same ones that stoked the very fire that burned inside her, lingered in the air attempting to grasp something that was no longer within reach. 

  
  


Mando could barely focus on the task at hand, a task that required critical attention. He could not afford a slip up just because of his own carelessness, but the Mandalorian could not turn his attention away from the Razor Crest. 

The ship was sitting idle inside the hangar bay of Ran’s space station. He was not concerned about the ship that would now be accompanying him on this job per se, it was old and had served him well beyond its intended use. No, he was concerned for the two hidden on board. 

As he watched the droid, Zero as the team called it, board his ship, Mando's stomach heaved with uncertainty. He should have dropped them on some small uninhabited planet where they could have been safe, but instead he had brought them even closer to danger, once again. Although with the way Wren had been behaving lately, she would have never gone along with it. 

She argued against every word that slipped out of his helmet. Particularly when it came to the subject of this job and her lack of participation in it. Running from the Guild and remaining Imps loyal to the Warlord client on Nevarro left the two warriors and the child with little to no options. Wren was a fighter unlike anything he had ever seen but, he could not risk her working among this motley crew. Mando did not like the fact that he had to resort back to his past, but he had to protect the kid and Wren no matter what, whether she liked it or not. And as it would seem she was not fond of the idea or anything of the late. 

Ever since Tatooine, she had been different, stiffer, dare he say frightened. Although he did not know of what. He had been alone for so long, a part of him locked away inside the Mandalorian creed that he did not know what it was like to be a part of something that contrasted so greatly against his upbringing. Wren was so strikingly different from him or anyone he had ever met, it was shocking that they had even coexisted together for so long. Mando knew that she was aware of his belief, but Wren never disputed it. She let him believe they were complete oppositions, but he could see her wanting to fight it. She was unwilling though to share their similarities, unwilling to share anything about herself or her past. Although he assumed she was unable to, with the truth locked away it left her lips sealed shut. It was strange compared to others he had met in his travels. Others felt the need to share parts of their stories wherever they went, unlike himself and others who swore the Mandalorian creed. His past, the boy he once was, the person he was once to be, was buried deep down because of a way of life. Wren’s was buried so carefully and meticulously that it could have only been for one reason… survival. 

Her secretive nature and the thought of her hidden life shed new light on to the bearing of the black hood. The Reaper was just another wall of protection for Wren. Another way to keep herself safe and anonymous, yet she had been so willing to remove her hood on Sorgan in front of him. Perhaps it had just been for the child or that she found him to be trustworthy because of Cara. Or maybe it was not her face that set her apart and made her life dangerous… At the thought of the hood and her face, Mando recalled their last conversation only moments before they had arrived here. He thought of how they had drifted together mindlessly, their torsos pressed against one another, breaths taken collectively. Her eyes, those alluring eyes, had widened in alarm as they first made contact. He could still feel the heat that had radiated off of her like a phantom creeping up him. Mando had been so confounded, it turned him into a statue unsure how to respond. Before he could, Wren had stepped away dismissing it entirely too quickly… leaving Mando even more confused. 

Mando was not naive, he knew he contributed to the skyrocketing strain between the two of them, but it was no less bothersome. Every little move or decision was met with criticism, everywhere he went inside the confines of the ship he was met with the jumpiness of her, and arguments left him with the sight of her disheveled, face tinged with that angry flush, and her lips drawn together into that sinful pout. He had grown tired, irked even by the continuous fighting, but he could not resist from vexing her. Every time he did, he was met with those sharp eyes throwing daggers at him, eliciting a reaction deep inside of him that made his fingers twitch for his blaster or perhaps something else. 

With the way she looked at him, Mando was reminded of how very capable she was at taking him down and a part of him wanted her to try. He wanted her hot breath to fog up his visor, feel the burning sting of her knees pressed down into his forearms locking him down and her legs hooked around his dangerously close to his inner thighs, feel the intimate press of her blaster against his throat. Just for the hell of it. 

“So, package is being moved on a fortified transport ship.” Mayfield explained bringing up a display of a ship on a hologram. “Now, we got a limited window to board, find our friend, get him outta there, before they make their jump.” 

Mando’s head dropped down to view the hologram ship and for a moment he closed his eyes attempting to shake away his disorderly thoughts. He needed to focus on the task at hand because the sooner he got these credits, the sooner they could be gone and safe. Well, safer.

“That’s a New Republic prison ship.” He observed once he collected him. He turned to Ran, the man only offering him a tilt of his head and a quirked up eyebrow. “ Your man wasn't taken by a rival syndicate, he was arrested.” Oh his partner was going to kill him…

“So what?” Mayfield questioned smugly, planting his hands down onto the table. 

“A job is a job.” Ran reminded, his mouth opening in surprise over Mando’s obvious displeasement. For a fleeting minute, Mando felt relieved that he had advised against Wren wearing the hood. On a mission like this, one that involved the New Republic, the Reaper would only be a deterrent, a threat, and Mando did not want any of these banthas to even lay an eye on her. Although, he could also envision the blaster slipping beneath a layer of armor, the chill of the durasteel seeping through his clothing to his carefully concealed skin, the blaster positioned against his ribcage when Wren found out. 

“That’s a max security transport,” Mando stated looking between Ran and the former Imperial sharpshooter, “and I’m not looking for that type of heat.” 

“Well, neither are we. So just don’t mess up.” Ran added and Mando sighed tilting his helmet at the old acquaintance, silently regretting getting involved back into this. 

“The good news for you is the ship is manned by droids. “ Xi’an sauntered up to him, fiddling with her dagger. She grinned maliciously up at him, looking at him in a way that no doubtedly was an attempt to get under his skin and provoke feelings, no urges, that were no longer there. Not for her. He was not young and foolish anymore, looking for a release wherever he could find it. Things were different now, he was different. “Still hate the machines, Mando?” Xi’an purred leaning up and into him, her blade pointing over to the Crest. 

Mando turned to find Zero walking down the ramp of his ship. “Despite recent modifications the ship is still quite a mess. The power lines are leaking. The navigation is intermittent. And the hyperdrive is only operating at 67.3% efficiency.” With each sentence of his schematics report, Zero lifted and lowered his arms. Mando rolled his eyes at the dramatics of the machine and his analysis. The ship was fine… 

“Oh, and it seems the Mandalorian has a stowaway on board.” _Shit._ Mando’s head sprung up and he looked over to the odd crew who seemed to perk up at the droid’s words. 

“She’s not a part of this operation.” Mando spit, scowling at the nosy machine. He was not sure what he had expected, the team would have found out about Wren the minute they boarded the ship, he was unable to hide her like the little green one. Yet, the droid’s words had stoked something inside of him that he rarely felt… fear. Although with the child and now Wren accompanying him, it was a feeling he began to encounter more frequently. 

“Who is she?” Ran questioned, eyeing Mando with a look of suspicion and distrust. 

“No one,” He quickly squabbled for an answer, a lie, “just an old acquaintance in need of transportation.” His words were choppy and rushed, and most importantly ineffective. 

“Oh, it seems Mando here has a little friend on board.” Mayfield chuckled walking towards the ship. Mando stepped forward defensively unsure what the sharpshooters intentions were. “What is she? A personal dancer? A concubine? Someone for you to take your frustrations out on?” 

Mayfield’s questions made the Mandalorian clench his jaw, his temper shortening with every syllable. Wren was not anything of those things and hearing her, a woman capable of so much belittled like that made Mando’s palm itch for his weapon. That’s not what they were, they were partners working together to ensure the safety of the kid. That was it, right? The Mandalorian shook away his questionable thoughts choosing instead to focus on which way he wanted to kill this merc… 

Mando stepped forward, hand moving to hover above his blaster. The beskar clinked as he walked up to Mayfield only stopping once he was a few inches away. He peered down at the dimwitted Imp, a man who should fear for his life. 

“She’s an acquaintance, that is all.” His voice was low and threatening through the modulator, everyone halting around them. The two men stood chest to chest, neither one backing down. 

“I don’t know Mando, my interest is piqued now. Let’s go have a looksie, huh?” Mayfield taunted, attempting to move towards the ramp. Mando’s arm sprung out quicker than he could think, hand tightly clasping around Mayfield’s upper right arm. He yanked him back roughly, his teeth grinding together from how hard his jaw was clenched. His other hand now gripping his blaster firmly. Before Mando could even speak, advise this former Imp against anything involving Wren, Ran beat him to it.

“M, leave it. I don’t care about some girl. You have a time sensitive job to do so I suggest you all get going.” Ran barked gesturing to the hologram still displayed on the table beside the bearded man. 

Mayfield glanced up at Mando one last time before ripping his arm free, “Fine.” 

Watching him head towards the ship, Mando inhaled deeply. He did not like this one bit. Unbeknownst to him, Xi’an had slinked on over to him, letting one purple finger trail over the fabric of his cloak concealing back until she worked her way to the front of him. Her finger jabbed harshly at the middle of his armor, where the small indention of his sternum was. Her eyes narrowed as she studied his visor, entirely missing his own. “Interesting…” She purred before heading for the Crest as well. 

He too, moved towards his ship mentally preparing himself for the mess that would await him inside. Mando begged that the credits would be worth this disaster of a mission. Although as he reached the top of the ramp, a voice called to him further indicating this mission would be trying. 

“Hey Mando,” He pivoted to see Ran at the bottom of the ramp watching him. “Don’t let that girl of yours get in the way.” His words were sharp, a warning embedded in them despite the large smile the older man wore as a facade. The sight made Mando uncomfortable, his words even more so. Mando just stared down at the man, the silence effectively delivering his response, before he slammed the button to his left closing the ramp. 

  
  


Wren felt the Razor Crest lift and slowly pivot out of the space station, but it was an afterthought as she stared down the new passengers that boarded the ship. A Devaronian, a Twi’lek and a human, not mentioning the droid she had come across before who had once again slipped up to the cockpit. She could not believe Mando was letting a droid pilot. Wren knew her companion hated droids, she had witnessed it beneath the heat of the twin suns, but she was still unsure why. But a man like such had to have a reason why, a tremendous one. Just like she had hers for her own things… 

A low whistle echoed across the confines of the ship and Wren blinked away the haze in her eyes, focusing onto the audience before. All three pairs of eyes were trained on her, maybe even a visor, but the whistle had originated from the bald human who just seemed to gawk at her with half a sly smile. 

“I don’t know Mando,” The man spoke, pivoting to the Mandalorian pressed against the side panelling. “Are you sure she’s not -” His words were cut short by the erupt turn of the shiny helmet. The man laughed at his reception, shrugging his shoulders lightly. Wren felt like she was missing the punchline. “Hey it’s your business.” 

The helmet stayed locked on the man and Wren could identify the threat spoken in the way he tilted his head. It almost made Wren smirk, almost. 

“No this one is too pretty.” The Twi’lek stepped forward carelessly. She approached with a wickedly large grin, but her eyes were hardened with something familiar. Wren had seen the look before, she just could not place it. “Dressed in black and armor.” The Twi’lek clicked her tongue, pausing just in front of Wren. Her eyes were gleaming with malice, tinged with recognizable anger. 

With a hiss, the Twi’lek sprung forward, the coolness of a dagger pressing against Wren’s throat as her back slammed into the wall. Sharp teeth barred, bodies pressing into one another as the dagger experimentally pushed on Wren’s artery. The free arm of the Twi’lek roughly attempted to keep Wren’s own arms down and away from the dagger.

The close proximity gave Wren the realization as to where she had seen this look before. The same look had been in the eyes of a few Rebel fighters, even a General once, when observing romantic interests with other possible suitors. Jealousy, Wren concluded. A feeling she had never experienced. Jealousy required an object of affection and vengeance had not left much room for that. It had not left room for much of anything… 

But why was the Twi’lek jealous? What did Wren possess to earn such envy? 

“Xi’an.” Mando’s voice warned and the Twi’lek, Xi’an, seemed to let out a sigh that was mixed with a low purr at the sound. Her response was well, alarming. Wren would have bet several credits for her to react violently or completely ignore him, not sound like she was getting off at the scolding. 

Flickering eyes found the Mandalorian standing rigid observing the tense scene before him. A hand was posed above his blaster as if he was ready for any slight movement he deemed too dangerous. With the dagger pressed against her trachea, Wren rolled her eyes, it was a little late for a blaster. Yet, the sight reminded her of their first meeting underneath the sinking sun of Sorgan. Where both of their hands had been inching towards their own blasters, ready to draw and have a good old fashioned shootout, before they had even exchanged a word. Wren missed those days. Now she could only see the obvious hostility between Mando and the Twi’lek, one that was a clear indication as to why Xi’an was threatening her. Wren could only scoff, _Really Mando_? A burning sensation erupted in the Reaper’s chest as if she had just consumed a large amount of Rodian spice. It was a strange feeling, making her cough a little causing the dagger to rub against her neck. It was new and unfamiliar, had she just swallowed fire?

The sharpness of the dagger continued to prod at the delicate stretch of her skin until Wren felt warmth trickle down her neck. _Blood_. Yet, she did not flinch nor was she really concerned. She had bled before, many times, in many places. This would just be another scar varnishing her skin. The palms of her hands itched for her weapon though, something that would put this tiny dagger to shame, put this merc to shame, but alas she could not. With no hood, she would have to dispose of everyone in the ship and that would get messy, quick. It would be easy for her of course, but it would leave a lot of questions from the Mandalorian. Questions she was not ready to answer, yet. Although she could not imagine a time she would ever be ready. Not to mention the whole reason they were in this mess in the first place; They needed the credits and disposing of all them right now would leave behind another problem. So instead, a part of her who was the Reaper, the dauntless warrior who had struck fear in many across the galaxy, tilted her head down at the purple skinned mercenary.

“Are you done showing off your toy?” Wren challenged bitingly. Muffled laughter was heard in the background and Xi’an growled at the mockery. Before the purple skinned woman could retaliate, Wren sprung into action, quickly raising her knee and forced a blow into her stomach. Xi’an let out a howl of discomfort at the blow, stumbling backwards while her dagger slipped from her fingers. Wren turned her attention away from the Twi’lek in the blink of an eye, catching the dagger in her own palm. Xi’an eyes were wide with shock and speckles of fear as Wren swiftly moved to press the blade against the throat of the mercenary. “Let’s try this again shall we?” A smirk graced her lips as she peered down savagely at her new prey. 

More laughter broke through the intense stare down, ripping Wren away from her opponent. She took a step back, eyeing Xi’an with venom laced in her irises; she was surprised the Twi’lek had not doubled over and fallen ill from the toxicity of it. Nonetheless she had made her point… Wren twirled the small dagger in her hand until the handle pointed towards Xi’an, who snatched it in displeasure. She let out a growl of outrage before she turned and slunk back to the other side of the ship. 

“I like this one Mando,” The human male chuckled beside the Devaronian, “she’s good with her hands. Too bad she ain’t a part of our job.” 

Mando looked between the three mercenaries and Wren, while she discreetly collected the small trickle of blood from her neck. He was strangely reserved as he stalked towards the ladder leading to the cockpit. His gaze seemed to linger on Wren though, making the fire in her chest bloom again. She was unsure what to make of these feelings that dominated her lately. She was angry with the Mandalorian half the time, but she also fought against the underlying current that threatened to engulf her constantly. It left her depleted, breathless, and frustrated, but most of all confused. 

“Pity.” He breathed out and a tsk flew from Wren’s mouth. She glowered at the beskar steel in utter disbelief over his teasing. If only these mercs knew the amount of bickering that had occurred inside this ship over her not being a part of the job, how many times she envisioned tackling him to the floor. Now he had the audacity to tease her and so openingly. She was going to kill him. But she could not help the light smirk that sunk into her face as she watched him disappear up the steps. This was definitely a bad idea…

  
  



End file.
